


Soul Mate

by JustAnotherShadow503



Series: Soul Mates 'Verse [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry, Bottom!Harry, Condoms, Depression, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Harry-centric, Heavy Angst, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Self-Harm, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Louis, please read the tags, top!Louis, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-29 22:54:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherShadow503/pseuds/JustAnotherShadow503
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry smiles bitterly to himself as tears slip down his cheeks silently. He's sitting in the bathroom, alone in their flat, Louis gone off on another of his dates with Eleanor. He'd told Harry before he'd left to not expect him back tonight, and that had been the metaphorical last straw for the younger boy. So here Harry sits, back against the locked bathroom door, staring down a razor blade.</p><p>Harry never could have imagined that this is what his life would amount to. Honestly? He's Harry Styles, one-fifth of One Direction, the boy band that is quickly taking over the musical world. He should have everything he could ever want. He should be happy. Harry can't help but laugh hollowly at the thought. If anything, Harry feels stripped bare, like he's broken inside. And to think, it's all because of a boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Soul Mate

**Author's Note:**

> So, this idea popped into my head after reading the admittedly low amount of self-harm fics with Harry being the one self-harming. It was a story that was just begging for me to write it, and who am I to deny my dwindling creativity? I will admit, I have some experience with self-harm, but I don't really remember how it made me feel, so I kinda made it up. Lol. Also, I have a thing for Niall and Harry, so, yeah. It had to be done! The title came from a YouTube video by the name of "Harry + Louis || What's a soulmate?" by the lovely GossipSmile. It also kind of inspired the ending.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this story that took me only a day or two to write! It's probably not my best work, but I really enjoyed writing it! I'm too tired to check for errors, but if you spot any, please let me know! I also enjoy constructive criticism. Oh, and I only recently got into the fandom, so I hope my characterizations of everyone is okay. It's Harry-centric, but the other guys do appear, so let me know about that, too, yeah? This author's note it getting really long but I want to let you all know two other things. The first is that I'm American, but I tried to use British terms as much as possible to keep the flow. The other is that this is my first submission on here and for this fandom. So, yeah. Please let me know in the comments what you all think! Thanks!
> 
> (Edit 10/9/15: Please pay attention to the tags. Harry almost dies in this, and I don't want to be responsible for anyone being triggered. If reading this will be detrimental to your mental health, please skip over it. Your well-being is more important than getting some views on this story.)

Despite what anyone else says, Harry has always been a rather sensitive, subdued guy, more likely to start crying than get angry. He's always thinking, always second-guessing himself. Regardless of this, however, Harry has also always been a happy individual. While he does have crying spells every so often, he gets over it rather quickly, especially with Louis there by his side to distract him from the problem, usually with sex, and after he's calmed down, they talk about it.

Harry has never met anyone quite like Louis. The man is flamboyant, spontaneous, painfully hilarious, while still remaining the most caring person Harry knows. He may not always show it, but Harry knows Louis cares about him. Or, well, he did.

Ever since Eleanor came into the picture, Louis has been drifting from Harry, slowly, but steadily. At first, Harry didn't notice. They are both quite busy with the band and other things, but Harry did notice when Louis texted him to let him know that he won't be coming home that night. Harry had been confused, until he remembered that Louis had a date with Eleanor, the girl Modest! had set him up with. Of course, that only brought more questions. Why was Louis not coming home that night? Did something come up?

Harry had resolutely decided to stop his train of thought there. He needed to have faith in his boyfriend. Harry knew Louis loved him.

Of course, when Louis had come strolling into their flat the next day with Harry's favorite takeaway, which they ate while watching Love, Actually on the couch and cuddling, Harry had been ecstatic, until he happened to catch sight of a dark bruise on Louis's neck, just behind his ear, that Harry knew he didn't put there. Harry didn't say anything, pretending he hadn't seen it.

It was several months later that Harry just couldn't deny the fact that he and Louis were distant. Louis went out with Eleanor three to four times a week, staying overnight at least one of those days. He hadn't made love to Harry in nearly two months, which Harry didn't necessarily mind, but when Louis came home after his dates and nights with Eleanor with obvious love bites littered all along his neck and shoulders, Harry found himself... depressed.

It was strange. Harry knew, without a doubt in his mind, that Louis was cheating on him with Eleanor, but he wasn't angry. He was just really, really sad. And there was nothing he could do about it, either. Harry, by nature, is very non-confrontational, so he lets this go on, his and Louis' relationship dwindling down into nothing as he slowly sinks further into depression. The worst part about it, Harry thinks now, is that Louis didn't see it, never suspected a fucking thing.

Harry smiles bitterly to himself as tears slip down his cheeks silently. He's sitting in the bathroom, alone in their flat, Louis gone off on another of his dates with Eleanor. He'd told Harry before he'd left to not expect him back tonight, and that had been the metaphorical last straw for the younger boy. So here Harry sits, back against the locked bathroom door, staring down a razor blade.

Harry never could have imagined that this is what his life would amount to. Honestly? He's Harry Styles, one-fifth of One Direction, the boy band that is quickly taking over the musical world. He should have everything he could ever want. He should be happy. Harry can't help but laugh hollowly at the thought. If anything, Harry feels stripped bare, like he's broken inside. And to think, it's all because of a boy.

Harry turns the blade over in his hands a few times absently, checking the sharpness on the pad of his thumb. When the skin slices open easily, blood beading up to the surface, Harry brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks on it, stemming the blood flow. After he's done that, Harry glances at his left wrist, the pale, delicate skin there. Harry wonders idly how it will feel, cutting into his skin. His thumb had stung a bit, but felt more or less like a paper cut. Is that how it will feel to open up the skin of his wrist?

Harry sighs and decides to just do it, just get it over with. He made this decision; he's gonna follow through on it.

The first touch of cool metal to Harry's wrist sends a current of electricity up his arm to his heart, sending the organ into a bit of a frenzy. At first, Harry just applies pressure until the skin around the blade pales, then presses harder. When Harry feels the metal bite into his skin enough to break through, little droplets of blood welling to the surface, he drags the blade across his wrist quickly. Pain blossoms in Harry's wrist, a line of crimson fire across the pale, thin skin. It's not a very deep cut, but it doesn't have to be. That's not what this is about. Harry doesn't want to die. No, he just wants to do something deliciously destructive, something he knows he shouldn't do.

Harry feels his mind clear. It's a strange feeling, one he's never really felt before. Everything seems sharper. The scent of iron in the air is thick; the redness of the blood slowly dripping onto the white ceramic tiles of the bathroom floor between his legs is stark, entrancing him; the buzz of the lights in the bathroom is loud in the silence; the salty taste of his blood is still on his tongue; the gash in his wrist is pulsating, pumping more sticky, crimson fluid out. Harry decides that this could work. This could help.

~

It's been around a year and a half since Harry started his nasty habit. So far, no one has found out, something he's grateful for. At first, it was something he did when he was feeling overwhelmed, just something to take the edge off. It's escalated to the point where Harry finds himself alone in the bathroom of wherever they're staying, chasing that feeling of the world sharpening, clearing up, several times a week, if not everyday. It's more difficult when he's rooming with one of the other boys, but he usually manages to get a room by himself. It's most difficult when Harry has to room with Louis. He finds that when he does, he has to beg off going out that night, just to get his fix. It's become an addiction of sorts by now.

To Harry's credit, he's been more careful with the places he cuts himself. He knows he can't continue wearing long-sleeved shirts and bracelets all of the time, especially when he's rooming with one of the other boys and he's fresh from the shower. He's taken to cutting the insides of his thighs and the tops of them, high enough that his boxers will hide them easily, even though the feeling of clarity he gets isn't as strong when he cuts himself there. Every once in a while, when the feelings get too intense, Harry will cave and cut up his wrist, but it's a treat he doesn't allow himself very often. It's too risky to harm himself in such an open area. Harry's always been terrible at denying himself things, though.

Right now, Harry is in his hotel bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet seat, boxers laying on the ground near his feet, staring down the razor again for the fifth time this week. He's trying to find a place to cut himself, since the insides of his thighs are so heavily scarred. He decides on the outside of his right thigh, high up to his hips. Harry places the thin blade against the thicker skin there and feels that familiar tingle shoot up his spine. Harry almost smiles as he applies pressure, more than he would need for his wrist, and when the blood starts to breach the surface, he slices back.

The heat of the cut is always the first thing that registers in Harry's mind. Then comes the pain. Harry's always had a rather high threshold for pain, so this is practically nothing to the boy after so long. The fuzzy feeling in the green-eyed boy's head lifts, bringing in the calming peace of mind he craves so much lately. It's moments like these that Harry enjoys the most in life these days, and isn't that sad?

Harry can't enjoy it longer, because there's suddenly the sound of the hotel room door opening. Harry panics, dropping the razor blade between the sink counter and the toilet with a quiet 'clink!' as he pulls on his black boxers, the only thing he has with him in the bathroom. Harry hears Niall's voice calling to him, getting closer to the bathroom, and Harry doesn't think. He opens the door, right as Niall reaches it.

"Hey, lad! Was worried about ya, so I came back early to check on ya. Are ya okay, Harry?" Niall asks, his usual smile there, but concern in his eyes.

"I-I'm fine, Ni. Promise," Harry replies as steadily as he can, trying to return the smile but not quite managing it.

Niall's smile fades as he looks over Harry. He's noticed the younger boy has been steadily pulling away from everyone, staying in more often than not. His personality, usually so open and carefree, has become subdued, more sad, almost. Niall doesn't like it, not one bit. He loves Harry, they're great mates, but he wants to know Harry's okay. That's why he's been rooming with the boy so often.

In the silence of the room, a soft 'plip, plip, plip' sound reaches Niall's ears. He glances at the faucet, thinking Harry didn't turn it off completely, but it's dry, the handles completely turned off. Niall frowns, and in his periphery, sees a small, red puddle. The Irish man's eyes dart to it quickly and see that it's pooling by Harry's right foot, trailing down his leg. Niall's breath catches as he snaps his head up to look at Harry's face, and sees that it's pale, his eyes darting to and fro, looking anywhere but at Niall, fear evident in his eyes.

"Harry," Niall breathes.

His hand reaches for the boy's boxers, gently lifting them up when Harry makes no move to stop him. He follows the sticky red trail up Harry's leg and Niall feels his breath leave him in a burst at the clean, long, thin line there. Niall feels tears fill his eyes as he removes Harry's boxers for him, looking at the wound more closely, and when he sees the shiny scars, all in varying degrees of healing, the tears spill down his cheeks.

"Oh, Hazza," Niall whispers, falling to his knees to examine the cut.

The blood flow is already slowing, the flesh scabbing over nicely. Niall is grateful to see that the cut isn't too deep, and is therefore not life-threatening. Niall presses a soft kiss to the wound, uncaring of the blood that coats his lips, before standing and pushing Harry gently into the bathroom, having him sit on the closed toilet lid. Reasons don't matter at this point. All that matters is that Niall cleans Harry up. They can talk later.

Surprisingly, Niall finds a small self-aid kit sitting on the counter next to the toilet, and when he checks the inside, he finds all the tools he needs to clean the wound properly. Niall feels sad, wondering just how long Harry has been doing this, since he's already got a kit together to take care of himself afterwards. Regardless, Niall gets to his knees, disregarding the bloodied razorblade beside him, sets to work, taking a wet wipe and gently rubbing the blood off of Harry's beautiful, pale skin. After he's done that, he take a tube of antiseptic cream and spreads a thin layer over the length of the cut. Finally, Niall takes a large, skin-colored bandage that's about four shades darker than Harry's skin tone and gently lays it overtop of the cut, sealing off the edges. The blue-eyed man places another soft kiss to the bandage before he cleans up the bloodstains around the bathroom, throwing Harry's bloodied boxers into the sink to soak in some warm water. When he's finished, he takes Harry by the hand and leads him out to his bed, stripping down to his bare skin before slipping in beside the fragile boy, completely disregarding his own perfectly made bed five feet away.

Niall holds the boy to his chest, humming softly into his ear and running his fingers through the other's brown curls soothingly as Harry cries. The sobs that escape the boy's mouth are heart-wrenching, and Niall can't help but hate whoever it is that made Harry feel this way, whoever made Harry resort to self-harming. Niall swears to himself that he'll castrate the person.

By the time Harry has calmed down, Niall has laid there with him for a good hour, hour and a half. Niall knows the other boys are going to be coming back soon, since it's nearly half-one, so he whispers to the broken boy that he's going to text the guys and tell them that they're going to bed, to not disturb them. Harry nods complacently, and Niall throws his clothes every which way until he gets to his jeans, digging around in the pockets until he finds his phone. He shoots off a group text to the three and then drops his phone onto the ground beside his jeans, curling up behind Harry on their right sides. Niall's arms wrap around the taller boy's waist lightly as he presses a chaste kiss to Harry's neck, feeling the boy shiver in response.

"G'night, Hazza. Love you, mate," Niall whispers into Harry's ear.

"Night, Ni. Love you, too. Thank you," Harry whispers back, snuggling back into the warm body behind him, feeling safe and loved for the first time in what seems like years.

~

Niall and Harry wake up the next morning to the door slamming open and a loud voice grating on their ears.

"Good morning, you lazy- Whoa, what's going on here?"

Niall peeks open an eye to see Zayn standing there, his mouth dropped open in shock. Niall sits up, the blankets pooling around his bare waist.

"What're ya goin' on about so early in the mornin', Zayn?" Niall grumbles.

Harry makes a soft noise at the loss of heat, rolling over in the bed to wrap his arms around Niall's waist, uncaring of the way his face is now in close proximity to Niall's crotch.

"That. That is exactly what I'm talking about, Nialler!" Zayn exclaims, pointing to Harry and Niall.

Liam and Louis wander into the hotel room, wondering what the commotion is, and when they see Niall and Harry on the bed, naked, their minds immediately draw conclusions.

"What the hell?" Louis very nearly yells.

At hearing Louis' voice, Harry shrinks into himself, burrowing further into Niall. Niall notices, and can't help but lay a protective hand over the boy's neck, running his hand lightly up and down Harry's spine soothingly, feeling him start to relax. Harry blinks up at Niall and smiles gratefully up at him. Niall smiles warmly down at the curly-haired boy, cupping his cheek and pulling him up so that the blankets settle around his pale arse, revealing the smooth, milky skin of his back, planting a soft, chaste kiss on Harry's pliant lips. When Niall pulls back, Harry is looking at him curiously, but he's still smiling, so Niall smiles back.

"So, are you guys, like, sleeping together now?" Liam's voice asks.

Niall blinks, having forgotten about the other boys in the room. Niall glances at Harry with a mischievous look in his eyes before he responds.

"Yeah, we'll be sleeping together from now on." Niall grins, sneaking a glance at Louis. His face is carefully blank, but his eyes show that he's infuriated. Good. Serves him right for hurting Harry.

The room is quiet for a few moments before Liam breaks the silence.

"Well, uh, I'm happy for you guys."

Harry giggles and cuddles up to Niall, in his lap entirely now, uncaring that the blankets have slipped off of him entirely and now his bare arse is on display. Niall makes a show of grabbing the pale mounds of flesh and starts kissing Harry's neck. Harry, understanding what Niall's trying to do, helpfully gives a long, drawn-out moan.

"Christ! At least wait until we're outta the room, Niall!" Zayn shouts, grabbing Liam and Louis as he leaves the room, the door slamming shut.

As soon as the door is closed, Harry and Niall dissolve into giggles. Niall wraps Harry up in a friendly bear hug and laughs into his neck while Harry laughs outright, his giggles light and carefree, like he used to be. Niall feels his heart warm with the sound, thinking maybe there's hope for the boy.

When they're all laughed out, Niall tips himself and Harry over onto the bed, grabbing for his cellphone while still holding Harry. He checks it to see he has a text from Louis, from last night.

Louis: Is Hazza alright? He hasn't seemed himself lately. Give him a kiss for me, yeah?

Niall blinks at the text before he grins, showing it to Harry. The boy reads it, looking cautious, but his face lights up. Louis did notice something, at least. He laughs when he sees the last line, knowing that Louis would think Niall did a lot more than kiss him last night. Serves the tosser right, Harry can't help but think vindictively.

When Harry looks back at Niall, he sees that the Irish man has a serious look on his face. Harry feels his face slowly drop and swallows thickly, knowing he'll have to explain himself now.

"Harry," Niall begins, then stops, thinking over his words, trying to pick out a question to start with. "Harry, what did Louis do to you?"

Harry thought he was prepared for it, but he wasn't. He flinches at the mention of Louis' name. He feels those traitorous tears begin to well up again, and he doesn't want to talk about this. He wants to cut. He wants... He wants Louis back.

"Louis is dating Eleanor," Harry manages to get out, his voice quiet and shaky.

"I know that, love. They've been 'datin'' for almost two years now," Niall says, rubbing Harry's back soothingly.

"Niall, he's... He's been sleeping with her for more than a year and a half," Harry whispers, trying to hold back the tears.

"He... He what?" Niall asks, shocked. He'd always thought that Louis and Eleanor had been a ruse to keep the public off of Harry and Louis' relationship, but Louis' been sleeping with Eleanor?

"Ni, he left me for her... He never even officially broke it off with me either... Did I-Did I mean so little to him, Nialler? Did I mean nothing?" Harry asks, the tears he's been fighting beginning to streak down his face.

"Hazza, Haz, Harry, no! You're beautiful, love. Louis is a fuckin' idiot for thinking she could ever be bette' than ya. If he doesn't see how amazin' ya are, I know you'll find someone who will!" Niall reassures the crying boy, wiping the tears from his cheeks gently.

"Niall, he's... Louis' my soul mate... I'll never find someone who can understand me like he does..." Harry says, throwing his arms around the blonde man's neck.

"I'm sorry, love. I know it'll work out for ya, You're too sweet to treat like anything less than royalty," Niall smiles at the boy, kissing his cheek.

"Ni... I... Will you kiss me? Please? Just for a little while?" Harry asks tentatively.

Niall nods, feeling his face soften. He knows Harry needs this, this closeness with someone. Kissing is just an extension of hugging. The boy explained it before.

Niall places his lips on Harry's softly, just keeping a steady pressure against the other boy's. He keeps up a slow pace, keeping the kiss chaste until Harry wants to take it further. When Harry parts his lips, Niall knows to lick into his mouth. This isn't the first time they've kissed before. Harry's kissed all of the boys, let them know that it doesn't mean anything, it's just an extension of their friendship. Niall's the only one of the other three, aside from Louis, that Harry has snogged outright, though. So when Niall and Harry kiss, there's no urgency, not true desire or lust. Just companionship and friendship. Just enjoying another's presence. It's slow and lazy and perfect.

The boys are so engrossed in their activities that they don't hear the door open quietly, don't see the thin figure standing in the doorway, staring at their naked, kissing forms in shock.

"Have you no shame, Harry?"

Harry jumps, startled out of the little world he and Niall created, and whirls around, taking in their spectator.

"L-Lou..." Harry stutters, unsure of what to say. He looks to Niall for help.

"Whattaya want, Louis? We were kinda in the middle of somet'in'," Niall says coolly, narrowing his eyes at the older man as he wraps a protective arm around the frightened brunette.

"Well, I was coming to get you so we could go to the venue, but since you're so busy, I can come back later, after you've fucked Harry like the little slag he is," Louis spits out.

Harry flinches away from the insult as Louis turns to leave. He pauses before he can completely turn around, however.

"Harry, what's that on your thigh?" Louis asks, sounding genuinely curious.

Harry doesn't think. He panics at the thought of Louis finding out. He says the first thing that comes to mind.

"What do you care, huh? Since when have you cared a damn about me in the past two years? Leave, Louis. I don't want to see you anymore," Harry snaps.

Louis looks shell-shocked. He can't believe Harry's taken that tone with him. He's never done that before. Louis wanders out of the room, telling the naked boys absently that they're leaving in twenty minutes.

As soon as the door closes, Harry's in tears again.

"Hush, love. I'm sure he didn't mean it. You know how he gets when he's angry and jealous," Niall says, attempting to calm the boy for what feels like the millionth time.

"He-He's never ca-called me a s-slag before, N-Ni," Harry sobs.

"Shh, love. It's alright. It'll be okay."

~

Tensions between Niall and Louis, and Harry and Louis are at an all-time high for the next few weeks. Niall is extremely affectionate with Harry during that time, and Louis steadily grows more and more angry towards the pair. They sleep together, naked, every night and randomly kiss whenever the need arises. Harry has attempted to quit cutting, but only lasts a few days of Louis' silent treatment before he caves and makes a long, deep cut along the top of his left thigh. Niall is there to comfort him and take care of him after, always so understanding and nonjudgmental towards the boy. It always makes Harry's heart constrict, knowing that Niall loves him so much, he's so willing to put up with all of Harry's shit.

They're in a hotel again tonight, and Harry is trying to convince Niall that he'll be okay in the room alone, that the Irish man can go out and have a good time. Niall isn't sure, but in the end agrees, telling the curly-haired boy to text him or call him if he needs him. Harry assures him that he will, tells him to have fun, and kisses him on the lips quickly before practically shoving him out of the door with a laugh.

Harry lasts around thirty minutes of watching the telly before he gives in to the urges. Harry sighs, standing from the bed and walking over to his travel bag, grabbing out the first aid kit and taking it with him into the bathroom. Harry shuts the door behind him, not bothering to lock it, as all of the other boys, aside from Louis, have gone out, and Louis isn't likely to talk to him any time soon. Harry strips off his clothes and finds a wall to slide down until he's sitting, bare legs outstretched in front of him. The green-eyed boy opens the kit and pulls out the well-loved razor blade, shining in the artificial light of the bathroom, as well as a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and a flannel, setting about quickly and methodically disinfecting the small piece of metal. When he's finished with that, Harry replaces them in the kit and turns his attention to his left wrist.

There's only about a dozen scars there. Some are small, some are long, but they represent the times when things got really hard, when he needed that intense clarity he could only get from his wrist. Harry takes a deep breath and presses the cool metal to his skin, body shivering once when it kisses his skin lightly. Harry smiles, ready for the relief that will soon come. He presses down, applying steady pressure until blood starts to leak from the wound, and-

"Harry! Where are you?"

Harry is so surprised, he cuts in too deep. Harry knows he's cut in too deep. The blood is gushing out of the laceration in a way it never has before. Harry's pale green eyes widen in fear. He doesn't want to die.

A sob escapes Harry's throat as he tries to stem the flow of the wound, but he knows. He knows there's nothing he can do. He's going to die. He going to-

"Oh my god! Harry!"

Harry tries to blink away his tears, look up at the person who is kneeling beside him, but he can't. He knows that voice. He knows it like his own.

"L-Lou, please, help me! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please, Lou!" Harry sobs, pressing down harder on the self-inflicted wound.

"Hazza, stay with me! Please, don't die on me! I'm gonna call the boys and Paul, they'll know what to do. Just don't die on me, Hazza! Don't you dare die on me!" Louis sounds frantic, his voice trembling and small.

Harry's head starts to feel fuzzy. His vision is going dark around the edges and black spots are dancing in front of his eyes. He's losing too much blood. He's not going to make it. He's gonna die. He's gonna-

"Harry, stay with me! Help is on the way! Open your eyes, love. Look at me. Stay with me, Harry, please." Louis is pleading with the boy who's dying in his arms.

Harry's eyes crack open, and his vision swims for a moment before it clears. Louis is crying above him, something he's rarely seen. His face is red, his blue eyes shining with tears, puffy and wide, and his breathing is fast. Harry thinks this isn't the worst thing he could possibly see before he dies.

"I love you, Lou," Harry whispers, voice cracking on Louis' name, before his eyes flutter shut.

"No! NO! Harry! Open your eyes! Harry! Please! Don't leave me! HARRY!"

And that's the last thing Harry hears before his world goes dark.

~

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.

The sound is loud and incessant, annoying. A pale hand tries to make it stop, but it is kept from moving. Pale green eyes open in frustration, glaring in the direction of the noise disturbing his sleep, and finds a heart monitor. The beeping sound picks up at the figure's heart rate rises, filling the stagnant air of the room with quick beeps. Green eyes dart to and fro, trying to take in the room and finds that the walls a pale pastels, the light through the windows grey. The owner of the green eyes is laying in a bed, and upon further inspection, finds a boy gripping his hand tightly, preventing it from moving. The boy's head is resting on the bed beside their entwined hands, looking utterly exhausted, even in his sleep. His brown hair is a mess, his face looks like it's aged much more than his actual age due to stress. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he has heavy black bags under his eyes.

The sound of a door opening makes the figure turn towards the sound, and finds a blonde-haired boy, a black-haired boy, and a brown-haired boy walking in casually, arms loaded up with drinks and snacks. The blonde one is speaking to the other two.

"We need ta get Lou ta eat somethin'. He hasn't left Harry's bedside once, 'cept ta use the loo. I'm worried that if Harry doesn't wake up soon, Lou'll be in a hospital bed beside 'im."

The other boys nod in response, and the brown-haired one goes to say something when he glances over at the hospital bed.

"Holy-Harry!" the brown-haired one exclaims, and immediately the other two snap their eyes to the figure on the bed.

The three quickly hurry over to the bed and crowd around the green-eyed person. They asks rapid-fire questions, getting in the person on the bed's personal space, and he couldn't be more confused. When there's a lull in the shouts, that the brown-haired boy has miraculously managed to sleep through, the green-eyed boy speaks up.

"I don't-" His voice cracks from disuse, so he clears his throat and begins again. "I don't know who you are?"

The room is quiet, except for the heart monitor. The three boys in front of him are staring at him with varying degrees of shock and sadness. It's the black-haired one that speaks first.

"You don't remember us, Hazza?"

The green-eyed boy shakes his head.

"I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I don't remember who I am either," the boy tries to smile.

The three awake boys in front of him share a look. It's the brown-haired one that speaks this time.

"Your name is Harry Edward Styles and you are one-fifth of the international band One Direction."

The green-eyed boy laughs.

"Are you kidding me? No I'm not. I'm nowhere near that amazing." The boy smiles at the others self-deprecatingly.

"No, it's true, Harry. This is what you look like, and this is Harry Styles," the awake brown-haired boy says, handing the green-eyed one a mirror and a magazine.

The boy takes the items, if only to indulge the boys standing around him. He looks at the magazine first, sees the headline that reads 'Harry Styles: In The Hospital?' and an image of a boy with curly brown hair, Jade green eyes, and a dimpled smile. The green-eyed boy rolls his eyes. They think this is him? The boy then takes hold of the mirror, glancing up at the boys staring intensely at him. It's a little creepy, if you asked him.

With a sigh, the green-eyed boy brings the mirror up in front of his face, but before he can even glance at his reflection, the grip on his hand tightens as the brown-haired boy awakens with a loud groan, mumbling under his breath about uncomfortable sleeping positions, but the words die on his lips as his eyes meet pale green ones.

The room is silent as the boys stare at each other. The green-eyed boy notices that the brown-haired boy has the most beautiful blue eyes he's ever seen, and they're shining with tears, wide and puffy. Suddenly, the green-eyed boy gets a vision of this beautiful boy holding him, sobbing, pleading for him to stay with him, to not leave him. Suddenly, it all comes back.

"L-Lou..." Harry chokes out, tears spilling down his cheeks.

A noise escapes from Louis' throat as he throws himself at Harry, wrapping his arms around the boy tight. Harry doesn't know how long they sit there crying, but when the tears dry up, Harry looks at Louis.

"I'm sorry, Lou. I'm so sorry," Harry croaks.

"It's okay, love. It's okay. But tell me why you did that. Why did you try to kill yourself?" Louis asks, his eyes undeniably sad.

"I-I wasn't trying to kill myself, Lou. I just, when I heard your voice, it scared me. I cut too deep. I didn't mean to, I promise," Harry tries to explain.

"Why were you even cutting in the first place? What drove you to that?"

Harry looks away from Louis, unable to see his face as he whispers, "You."

"W-What?" Louis asks, his voice sounding shaken, shocked.

"It's not your fault, Lou. It's not your fault you didn't love me anymore," Harry whispers, catching Liam leading Zayn and Niall out of the room in his periphery.

"What? I never stopped loving you, Haz. Never. What gave you that idea?"

Harry's eyes snap up to meet Louis', seeing the sincerity there.

"You were always going out with Eleanor, and we didn't make love anymore, and we didn't even kiss anymore. We weren't together anymore."

"Harry, I thought you needed space. I thought you didn't want me anymore," Louis says, looking small, fragile.

"What about the love bites you always came home with?" Harry asks, his tone sharp.

"What? Eleanor had to put those there. Modest! wanted it to seem like we had a healthy sex life. Those nights I didn't come home, we went to a hotel and she put those on me, then I stayed in a separate room. I never once slept with her, Harry. I promise."

Harry stares into Louis' crystal blue eyes, looking for any hint of a lie, and only sees honesty, sincerity. It makes tears well up in his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me, Lou?"

"I... We were already drifting by the time I thought to tell you. I didn't realize it would affect you so much," Louis says, his own eyes watering.

Harry sniffles and brings the older boy closer to him, planting a chaste kiss on his lips. When he pulls back, he offers Louis a small smile.

"I have to ask, though, Harry, what was going on with you and Niall? How long was it going on?" Louis asks, and Harry can see the heartbreak in his eyes, hear it in his voice.

"Niall? He-He found out about my cutting the night before you all walked in on us. I had cut myself on my thigh and it had soaked through my boxers. He comforted me and slept with me that night, just sleeping. You know Niall likes to sleep naked, too. It just so happened that you all found us in that way and drew those conclusions. And you know that I like kissing. It helps me feel better, more connected to a person. Niall understood that. We're only good mates."

"You know, I didn't mean to call you a slag, Harry. I feel really terrible about that, but I was really jealous. I thought you were cheating on me with Ni. It was still out of line, though. I'm sorry, love."

"It's okay. I understand. I love you, Lou," Harry smiles at the older boy.

"I love you too, baby," Louis returns, his tone showing all the love he has in his body for the green-eyed boy. "Just promise me you won't do that ever again, please. You scared me so much. I thought I'd lost you."

"I promise. I'd never leave my soul mate alone."


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's out of the hospital, and things with Louis are great. He's unsure of where they stand, however. Will Louis take him back as his boyfriend, or will Harry only get his best mate back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I thought that the story needed some more loose ends tied up, so I wrote an epilogue. There's smut in here, along with teeth-rotting fluff. Again, I am American, so if I use British terms in the wrong way, I apologize. This is un-betaed, but I've hardly ever used one before, so any mistakes are my own. I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know if you spot any mistakes or logical/factual errors. Oh, and Louis may seem a little out of character, but I think given the circumstances of what happens in this story, it's justified.

It's been a week since Harry found himself in the hospital, three of the days he's surprised to find out he was unconscious for. Modest! is furious with Harry, since his hospitalization became something of a hot topic in the media. They sent out a statement regarding Harry's stay in the hospital, something about severe dehydration, and they had to pay off the hospital to not speak about the real reason Harry was in there, despite it being hospital policy to not speak about patients. Today is the day Harry is being released, the day he's been eagerly anticipating and dreading in equal parts.

Harry finds out that Louis really didn't leave his bedside while he was unconscious, aside from using the en suite loo, something that warms his heart. Louis has been a constant presence while he's been confined to his bed, refusing to leave when the doctors check his vitals and when he gets a Psych evaluation. Harry only just escapes without being sent to a treatment facility for his cutting and depression, and that's only because of his celebrity status and Modest!'s insistence that he doesn't need it.

Harry breathes a sigh as he walks out of the hospital, Louis, Liam, Zayn, and Niall accompanying him, in 'disguise' of course. Harry himself is wearing a gray beanie over his messy brown curls, black sunglasses that cover half of his face, baggy black sweats, and a grey jumper over a simple white t-shirt. His feet are clad in his favorite black Chucks, the material faded and worn from use. Harry knows it's not much of a disguise, but it doesn't matter, since their car is pulled up right in front of the entrance when they exit. It's a large black SUV, so everyone piles in, Liam, Zayn, and Niall in the back seat and Harry and Louis alone in the second back seat behind them.

As the vehicle starts moving, Louis grabs Harry's hand and intertwines their fingers, shooting the younger boy a happy grin that he can't help but return. Harry is still unsure of where they stand, but he enjoys these moments, when there's hope that they could be happy together again. It's something Harry wants desperately, but he's not sure how to ask. His relationship with Eleanor may be fake, but Harry doesn't know if Louis will be willing to take him back, given everything that has happened.

Harry startles from his thoughts when a slender hand lays itself across his left cheek, turning his head to the right to see Louis staring at him with a soft expression, his eyes uncertain, but tender. His lips are curved upwards in a gentle smile, and Harry doesn't quite know how to react to that. He doesn't know what's going through Louis' head. When Louis slowly begins to close the distance between their faces, Harry's eyes flutter closed as their lips meet, the kiss chaste and dry, but to Harry, it's perfect. Louis has been kissing Harry every so often ever since he woke up in the hospital, and every time, it makes butterflies flutter in his stomach, his cheeks warm a little. Harry knows he's completely gone for this man.

When Louis pulls back, Harry opens his eyes to see Louis looking at him with something the younger boy would call love, just like he used to, and Harry feels his heart speed up. Harry feels those tears want to well up in his eyes, but he defiantly pushes them back, refusing to cry. He cries much too much.

Instead, Harry smiles at Louis and lowers his gaze, turning away from the older male. Louis doesn't remove his hand from Harry's face for a moment, stroking the soft, thin skin over his sharp cheekbone before taking it away, heaving a sigh as he lets it drop into his lap. Harry immediately misses the warmth, but tries not to think about it.

The boys are driven back to the hotel they were staying at before Harry ended up in the hospital, and Harry resigns himself to parting from Louis, only to have the older man follow him to his and Niall's room, the blonde having run off with Liam and Zayn to watch the telly in the older men's room. Harry wonders why until he sees that all of Niall's luggage is gone, replaced with Louis'. The younger boy is tired, eager to sleep in a more comfortable bed than the one the hospital provided, so he walks straight to his bed and face-plants, eliciting an amused laugh from his boyfriend - ex-boyfriend? Harry isn't sure anymore.

Harry sighs and rolls onto his side when he feels the bed depress next to him, Louis' body heat leaching onto him as the smaller man wraps his arms around Harry's waist. Harry sighs into Louis' chest as he relaxes. The room is quiet for several minutes, the only sounds in the room their breathing and Louis' voice as he hums. It takes the curly-haired boy a few moments to recognize the tune as Little Things, and feels himself smile into Louis' chest. It's Harry's favorite song, and he loves it when Louis sings or hums it to him. It's the greatest comfort to the taller boy, reminding him of times gone past when he and Louis were happy together.

"Harry," Louis' soft voice begins, and Harry looks up at him. "You know I love you, right?"

Harry startles a little, not expecting the phrase, before he nods.

"Yeah, of course, Lou. I love you, too."

Louis is silent for a while, and Harry just goes back to resting his head on Louis' chest, drawing random designs into the shirt-clad chest, perfectly content with the quiet. He's just glad he has his best mate back, even if he wishes desperately to have his boyfriend back as well.

"Do you still love me in the same way that you did before?"

Harry frowns, tilting his head back up to see Louis looking down at him carefully.

"Of course I do, Louis. You're my soul mate, remember?"

"Well, yeah, but," Louis pauses, his expression screwing up momentarily to one of frustration, the one he gets when he's not able to articulate his thoughts and feelings. "Do you still want me?"

Harry sits up and studies Louis' face. Why is Louis asking such an absurd thing? Harry will always want Louis, no matter what. No matter what happens, Harry could never not want the older boy.

When Harry speaks, it's with a clarity he usually doesn't have.

"What are you talking about, Louis? You're asking stupid questions." Louis blinks in surprise. "I always want you. Always. No matter what happens, no matter what you say or do, no matter what Modest! says or does, I'll always want you."

Louis is struck dumb, it seems, so Harry throws caution to the wind and presses a firm kiss to the older man's lips. It doesn't take long for Louis to reciprocate, and soon, they're in a heated snogging session. There's desperation in every lick, every nip, and Harry feels himself grow in his sweats, the material tenting obscenely. Louis seems to realize this, since his hand has slipped down to rub Harry through the rather thin layers of fabric. Harry lets a moan slip from his lips, which Louis swallows as he continues teasing the boy.

"Lou, Lou, please," Harry gasps out, breathing ragged as he pulls away from the kiss.

Louis is quiet, as he usually is when they do things like this. Harry remembers in the beginning of their relationship, after he'd gotten the chance to really notice things outside of the pleasure Louis gave him, that he was surprised by that. Louis is usually loud, cocky, and always ready with a dirty remark, no matter what the subject is, so for Louis to be so quiet in bed surprised him. When Harry thought about it later, though, in the afterglow of a mind-shatteringly good orgasm, he realized it made sense. Louis has never been one to lash out with angry words or actions, unless seriously provoked, and when he's upset, he gets extremely quiet, taking everything seriously, so it makes sense that he'd be quiet when he's having sex. The only times he ever really speaks during sex is to give Harry instructions or to tell him sweet things, like how much he loves Harry or to tell him that he's beautiful or perfect or something else of that nature that makes Harry's heart warm with love and his blood boil with lust.

Harry chokes slightly as he's wrenched from his thoughts. The green-eyed boy looks down and sees Louis' blue eyes staring back at him as he laves his tongue around the head of Harry's cock. When Louis had gotten Harry's sweats and pants off is a mystery to the boy, but his mental capacities are failing him quickly, leaving a litany of 'Lou, Lou, please, love you, Lou, please, love, Lou, Louis' as he keeps eye-contact with the blue-eyed man sucking him off. Harry grips the sheets, clenching and unclenching his fingers as the pleasure mounts. Blow jobs weren't rare in their relationship, often times Harry would suck Louis off several times a week, but Louis going down on Harry is something of a treat. It didn't happen nearly as often, maybe once or twice a month, so every time Louis did it, Harry was overwhelmed. This time is no different.

Harry is close to cumming, he knows he is, but Louis seems to realize this as well, because he pulls back, his lips shiny and swollen and red, his eyes bright and sharp, ignoring the whine that escapes Harry's mouth at being denied his orgasm. Louis' lips quirk up into a slight smirk for a moment, and Harry wonders briefly if he could break Louis down one day, tie him up and tease him mercilessly, strip away all of his inhibitions, and then let him loose. Harry wonders if he'd be desperate, fuck Harry harder than ever before, whisper not sweet nothings in his ear, but heated promises of what he's going to do to Harry. Harry wonders if Louis would punish him. Harry shivers and decides to tuck that thought away for later.

As of now, Louis is removing his shirt and trousers, movements quick, but not hurried. This is something Harry has always loved about Louis. He goes at his own pace, can't be convinced by anyone, not even Harry, to speed up. Even knowing that they've not been intimate for... God, for too long, Louis is still moving at his usual lazy pace. Harry is seriously considering that tying up thing, if only to see what happens.

"Come on, babe, want you to suck me while I get you ready. Don't bring me off," Louis tells him, slicking his fingers with lube while he moves them into position, Harry on all fours above him, head hovering just above the uncut cock Harry loves. The curly-haired boy doesn't know when Louis pulled off his pants, nor when he managed to find lube, but doesn't really care. Sucking Louis off is one of his favorite things in the world to do.

Harry nods quickly, wasting no time as he bends his head down, steadying himself with one hand as he pulls back the foreskin of Louis' cock, revealing the glistening head. Harry licks lightly at the tip, lapping up the pre-cum there, and nearly groans to himself. God, it's been forever since he's tasted Louis. He tastes just how Harry remembers. Equal parts salty and bitter, and just a little sweet. Harry loves the way Louis tastes.

Harry hums contentedly in the back of his throat when Louis slips a slick finger inside him, pace still slow, a firm hand on Harry's hip keeping him from thrusting back on the single digit. Harry continues to lick at Louis' cock all over, tongue strokes small and light, like kitten licks. Harry knows it drives Louis crazy, knows it makes the smaller of the two desperate. While Harry closes his lips over the head and slides down halfway, tongue writhing against the thick flesh, he plans out how exactly he's going to drive Louis crazy, how he's going to make him desperate with the need to fuck Harry. He'd probably tie him up while Louis is asleep, then suck his cock until he wakes up. Then Harry would keep sucking him, take him down his throat, until he's teetering on the edge, and then pull back. He'd probably do this several times, just to get the man as desperate as Harry feels most times, get Louis out of his head, where the only thing he can think about is Harry and fucking Harry. The green-eyed boy loves how considerate Louis is, really, but sometimes it gets in the way of their sex life.

Harry is unable to plan any longer because Louis is three fingers deep in Harry and he's just slid past the younger boy's prostate for the first time. Harry moans around Louis, where his lips are stretched wide around the girth of Louis' cock, nose pressed to the pubic hair of Louis' groin, breathing in his musky smell. Harry can feel that Louis is getting close by the way his cock twitches in his throat, his thighs tensed beneath Harry's hands as he represses the urge to thrust up into Harry's mouth and fuck it thoroughly.

Harry whines as he feels Louis remove his fingers, trying to move back to keep them inside of him but unable to because of the hand on his hip. Harry can't complain, though, when Louis slips out from underneath Harry, maneuvering the taller boy to lay down with his head resting on the fluffy pillows. Harry watches as Louis rolls a condom onto his spit-slick cock, spreading lube over top of it when he's done, and Harry makes a mental note to make sure to get them both tested at some point in the near future. He's never really liked condoms. They don't feel personal enough.

Louis fits himself against Harry's stretched entrance, and Harry feels himself clench instinctively before he reminds himself to relax. As Louis pushes in, Harry winces, his muscles straining to accommodate Louis' thick length. It's been a very long time since Harry's had something other than his own fingers inside of him, so the stretch burns. It's not unbearable, though. Harry knows that after a minute or two, he'll feel fine.

Louis pushes all the way inside, and doesn't need Harry to tell him to wait. Like Harry said, Louis is nothing if not considerate. Well, during sex, at least. Harry feels his mind start to wander as his muscles relax around the intrusion, wondering if he could talk to Louis at some point about getting into some kinks. Some bondage, maybe toys? Harry feels himself grow harder as he thinks of all the things they could do with toys, but his mind is wiped blank as Louis starts to move.

Louis' thrusts are slow at first, mostly just rocking their hips together, barely even moving. It's nice, yeah, but Harry feels like it's just a tease, knowing how much better it could be. Harry pushes back on Louis, making a sort-of whimpering noise in his throat in hopes of persuading him to do more, and is rewarded when Louis begins to pull out and actually thrust back inside. The pace slowly picks up, and Harry moans when he feels Louis brush against his prostate. After that, Louis, ever the considerate lover, angles his hips to hit it dead-on, even though it makes him shake from the effort of keeping the awkward position. It's when Harry is slowly losing himself to the slow mounting of pleasure that Louis speaks, his tone low and words broken up by breathy gasps of pleasure, his hairline beginning to shine with sweat.

"Taking me so good, babe. You're doing so good. Always do so good for me, Hazza."

Harry is surprised. This is the closest Louis has ever gotten to talking dirty to him, and while it's not the most eloquent thing Louis' ever said, Harry can't deny that it's turning him on. The curly-haired boy wonders just how many kinks he has that have been undiscovered because Louis is always so adamant about making love to him rather than fucking him, treating him like he's breakable, like he's fragile. Harry loves when they make love, but sometimes he just wants it fast and hard.

It's yet another thought for later, though, because Harry feels his orgasm building up, his muscles clenching and his breath laboring, becoming shallow and fast in anticipation. Louis seems to catch on, because he wraps a hand around Harry's cock, still slick from the lube, and wanks him off quickly. Harry knows Louis is close, too, because his thrusts are getting harder, losing his rhythm. With a keening whine, Harry cums, harder than he can remember ever cumming in the past year and a half. Louis is right behind him, thrusting one last time, harder than ever, and then grinding into Harry, all while only giving off a single, choked off moan.

Harry can see the strain taking its toll on Louis' arms, but instead of collapsing, Louis pushes through it with gritted teeth and holds the condom as he pulls out. Harry winces, Louis dropping a soft kiss on his red, plump lips in apology, before getting up from the bed and walking over to the rubbish bin, tossing the used condom inside. Harry watches as Louis makes his way shakily to the loo and returns a few moments later with a wet flannel, wiping Harry down. When he's done that, Louis drops the soiled cloth onto the carpet beside the bed, hauling Harry up on straining muscles to deposit him on the clean bed, slipping in beside him and wrapping his arms around the larger boy.

"I love you, Harry," Louis says, his expression soft and tired.

"Love you, too, Louis," Harry returns with a sleepy, loving smile as he kisses Louis, long and chaste.

As they cuddle together on the bed, Harry with his head resting on Louis' sweaty chest, Harry thinks fuzzily through the sleep overtaking him that maybe, they'll get through this. Maybe things can go back to the way they were before. Maybe things will be even better than before. After all, they're soul mates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you all like it? I hope you did! I just wanted to let you all know that I plan on writing another Larry story in this same 'verse I guess you'd call it. It's going to be smutty and may or may not involve things Harry thought about during this chapter. Be looking forward to it, loves!
> 
> (Edit 10/9/15: I finally started on it a few weeks ago. I'm the sort of author who waits for inspiration or an opening line to pop into my head before I can even begin. Sorry for how long this is taking.)
> 
> (EDIT 12/1/15: I just finished it. I'm editing now. Should be up before too long.)
> 
> Twitter username: (NEW!) @justashadow722  
> Tumblr username: @justanothershadow722

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! How'd you like it? I posted this forever ago, but I just wanted to add my Twitter and Tumblr if any of you were interested in finding out my fic status. I dunno how to do all that fancy word hyperlink stuff, so I'm just posting my names for now. If anyone knows how to do it, I'd greatly appreciate it.  
> (Also, a sequel is coming soon! Be looking for it, yeah?)  
> Twitter: (NEW!) @JustAShadow722  
> Tumblr: @JustAnotherShadow722  
> Thanks for reading!


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